


a rose by any other name

by pyrexprodigy



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/F, Friendship, Gardening, Jaderose week 2016, Just gals being pals, Mild Blood, Painkillers, Pining, Stitches, Strangers to Friends, Summer, Tumblr Prompt, rose lalonde is a human disaster
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-13
Updated: 2016-07-13
Packaged: 2018-07-23 17:33:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7473381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pyrexprodigy/pseuds/pyrexprodigy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summer means freedom. Unfortunately for Rose, it also means dealing with her incredibly attractive new neighbor who gardens. <i>In her bikini</i></p><p>--</p><p>“my new neighbor is smoking hot and i didn’t even like women until now and she has a garden and plants flowers in her bikini and i am dying inside” from tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a rose by any other name

**Author's Note:**

> hahaha this is so old. i've been working on this for over a year now since I started at the beginning of June 2015. jaderose week is the perfect time to fix this up and finish it
> 
> This was not beta'd and I'm too lazy to edit AGAIN so here you go and pls be nice i'm so tired

 

Summer starts less with a bang and more of a drawn out, somewhat pathetic whimper. Which makes sense, because Rose is getting older and there are fewer celebrations to kick off summer now. She thinks that’s odd, considering that now she’s putting more work than ever into her grades, something her elementary self would never appreciate, and she really deserves the celebration now. But now the end of the school year is just a rush towards deadlines that surely leave them more dead than alive (an appropriate name, then. Deadlines. Ha.) By the first official day of summer break, celebrations are not at the forefront of an educator’s minds. Nor have the students been engrossed in the possibility of partying their school anxiety away; Rose doesn’t even hear from a few of her friends until a week has passed.

The highlight of her summer’s start is the day that her new neighbor moves in. Most every day, she and her mother set up the umbrella in the yard and spread a blanket on the ground. It’s cooler outside than inside, and this way they can both pretend to be responsible people who get outside on a regular basis. The day that the new neighbors arrive is one of the days Rose sets up alone, her mother having drunk herself into a stupor the night before. Rose doubts the woman will be out of bed before three in the afternoon.

The moving van arrived sometime last week, so Rose can only assume that the belongings of these new people are already inside. So the car that ambles up the quiet, sunny street is small and not quite as packed as it might have been otherwise. Rose watches the car behind her purple-tinted sunglasses, the book in her hand propped up. It’s the perfect cliche for a perfectly cliched moment. In a few short seconds, she’s likely to push down her glasses to look the new neighbor straight in the eye, maybe cast aside a casual wink in the process of returning back to her spot on her own lawn after she introduces herself. The only reason this is a viable possibility for her immediate future is because she remembers the realtor mentioning something about a girl around her age arriving. She knows very little about the family otherwise.

The car crawls into the driveway and Rose can see a girl with long, dark hair at the wheel. The realtor was right; she looks about Rose’s age, but as she comes out into the open summer air it’s clear that this girl has an entirely different build. Not that there’s going to be a problem there; Rose thinks she’s attractive in her own right, and Rose approves of her own body wholeheartedly.

That sounded a lot gayer than she meant it to.

The girl moves around to the other side of the car, where she opens the door for the elderly man she’s with. A white dog jumps out after him, over the front seat and right up into her. The girl pats the dog’s head fondly and lets him be as she helps her grandfather to the door.

The dog, being left to his own devices, does as most dogs will. He seeks attention.

Rose isn’t at all surprised when the large animal trots up to her, panting. His fur is such a clean white that it’s almost impressive; his owners must make sure he’s well groomed.

Rose raises an eyebrow, as though the dog will know what her body language means in the first place. The girl has vanished inside, probably doing something with the older gentleman. For now, the dog is Rose’s problem. 

She is not a dog person. She is a cat person. She loves having cats sleep on her while she reads, she loves cute little whiskers and midnight mews that tell her she should open her bedroom door and let the poor beast in. But she doesn’t hate dogs. And she can tell this is an okay dog when he flops down next to her on the blanket, his head resting on Rose’s leg. He’s the calm sort, she figures as she scratches his head gently. She’s sure to smell of dog for the rest of the day now. Truly the only immediate downside to this animal is the smell, which is almost impressively terrible considering his grooming. Maybe the dog exclusively eats roadkill.

Rose thinks this with a private smile, the corner of her mouth twitching up as she feels the grease of the dog’s fur rubbing off on her hand. Well, perhaps there is another immediate downside.

It takes long enough for the new neighbor to emerge again. It’s likely she’s realized her dog has decided to torment local geese or something, and this girl does not look the type to piss off geese. Or piss off anyone, for that matter. 

Rose watched the girl come out onto her front stoop, quickly glancing around. The large white mass of fur is hard to miss and it takes her less than a second to spot the dog, who’s all but fallen asleep on Rose at this point. Rose quirks her mouth again as the girl approaches, an urgent hurry in her step.

“I’m so sorry!” is the first thing that the girl says to her. “He really should know better than to bother complete strangers - honestly, Bec! Bad dog! Worst dog!”

The dog eyes her in such an absurdly human way that Rose has to struggle not to laugh. 

“It’s not a problem,” Rose assures. “I quite enjoy the gentleman’s company.”

Her newest companion looks relieved behind those huge Harry Potter lenses. Rose can certainly appreciate Harry Potter glasses.

“Rose Lalonde, by the way,” she offers, sliding a thumb in her book and crossing her ankles. She tries to forget that she is currently hanging out in a swimsuit top and jean shorts from the eighth grade. They hadn’t fit around the calves before she cropped them, but damn her ass looks amazing in them. 

“Jade Harley,” the other girl offers with a toothy grin. This is the first time Rose has seen a toothy grin that looks charming and friendly; when that term had been used in books, she had never pictured a lovely young lady as the owner of that particular type of smile. 

“Pleasure.”

Rose struggles to keep a straight face as her cousin’s voice filters into her head.  _ No, that’s what I’ll be giving you later. _ It’s something he likes to whisper behind her when she introduces him to people. As a result, Rose has gotten in the habit of saying “pleasure” as a greeting, wondering if her cousin will ever stop being a child. Probably not. Which is fine with both of them.

But thinking this doesn’t help when you’re incredibly gay and the girl you’re talking to is very attractive, which is exactly how one would describe this entire exchange.

“Thanks! I’ve been looking forward to the move. It’s a lot warmer here,” Jade comments. That doesn’t help narrow down where she’s from because literally anywhere north of Texas is cooler. Fucking Texas.

“Fall is much nicer,” Rose states, like it’s a fact. She’ll start spouting sources in a second. A study from 2008 proves, through the use of such-and-such bullshit science experiment, that… No. She’s definitely been spending too much time with her cousin.

“Heh, yeah. I like winter the most, though. I’ll miss snow.”

As she used to live in New York, Rose remembers snow pretty well. She doesn’t miss it, but she misses what accompanied it. Snow days and snowmen and snowballs and fluffy winter coats. Still, winter has never been her thing and probably never will be.

“I’ve got to go help my grandpa unpack, but it was nice meeting you! Bec seems to like you, too.” At the sound of his name, the dog’s ears twitch and he stands back up, a thin line of drool clinging to his jaw. Jade pats her leg twice in quick succession and Bec stands obediently beside her. The upside of having dogs, of course.

“Hey, come over and hang out with him sometime! I’m sure he’ll find some way to sneak into your yard anyway,” Jade says, which catches Rose a bit off-guard.

“That would be fine,” she recovers cooly. 

It’s surprising how accurate Jade’s statement turns out to be.

 

* * *

Rose is pretty sure they don’t have any holes in their fence. Their backyard has never been pristine, but the fence and the play equipment from her childhood are still (relatively) intact. Sometimes, she’s encountered the odd snake slithering through the neglected, overgrown garden, but for the most part their backyard is pest-free.

Unless, of course, you count Bec fucking Harley.

Rose isn’t sure how the huge mutt managed to get over the six and a half foot fence, but somehow, through no fault of her own, a giant mound of white fur is found not three days later in the tall grass of her backyard. To make the situation even more ridiculous, Bec is found holding a dead snake in his jaws. Rose doesn’t know if she should be laughing or not, and decides not to when the stupid beast ends up running around the house while she chases him, attempting to retrieve the very dead, very messy snake corpse. 

Well, at least she was half right about the roadkill.

She ends up finding the dog under her mother’s bed, snake trailing out into the open. The blood on the carpet is difficult to notice; her mother’s spilled so many beverages in her room that she wouldn’t notice even if she licked the carpet.

Rose coaxes the dog out with a soft whisper and a raw chicken leg, which is probably a bad idea considering how well domestic animals handle bones. She leads him to the front yard, where Jade can be seen in her own lawn, rattling a bag of treats. Bec, who seems to much prefer bloody, rotten meat, remains unimpressed by his master’s attempt to get his attention and jumps for the chicken leg in Rose’s fingers. She wrinkles her nose and tears off a morsel for the dog.

Jade is next to her so quickly it’s a miracle Rose’s heart remains in her chest. “You found him!” she says, so loudly that Bec looks up from the chicken leg he’s been oh so interested in.

“Yes, I most certainly did,” Rose replies. “Did you know that your dog dragged half a dead snake through my house?”

Jade’s face falls just as quickly as she arrived. “Oh my gosh, are you serious? I’m so sorry about that! He’s not used to living around other people. He probably thought our yard was too confining. God, I’m so so sorry about that.”

Rose decides now is an okay time to be amused and smiles softly at the other girl. Who is, of course, still really really attractive and Rose is willing to admit to being shallow sometimes.

“No real damage was done,” she offers as comfort, which is the truth. “Though we may want to figure out how he got through the fence in the first place.”

“I have an idea of how,” Jade says, shooting her dog a look that, in human terms, probably meant something like  _ You’re grounded, buster _ . “Again, I’m really sorry about this. Are you sure he didn’t break anything or… Something?”

Rose shakes her head. “Don’t worry about it,” she says. 

Jade relaxes and Bec seems to realize that Rose won’t be giving up her raw treat any time soon. The dog wraps himself around Jade’s legs and whines up at her, eyeing the treats. Maybe it’s her imagination, but Jade seems to get something of a scolding look on her face. Bec isn’t phased.

“Oh, no! Not for you, mister! We’re going to have a serious talk when we get back in the house,” Jade tells the dog, as though he’ll understand. Then, to Rose she adds, “Thanks so much for returning him, Rose. I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

 

* * *

It happens again.

When it does, Rose hears the crash from her bedroom, which is at the front of the house. Why she’s the first one to get up and deal with the sound remains a mystery. She just assumes her mom is busy being passed out, though she allows Mom Lalonde the benefit of the doubt and decides she’s probably just got headphones on or something.

Rose closes her computer with a snap and a sigh. She has no doubt that Bec is to blame for the sound and slides on her flip flops at the front door before trekking through her house to the backyard, where a huge white mutt is drooling on the play equipment. The muddy pawprints tracked up the yellow slide make it obvious how he got up there, even though there’s only a ladder attached to the structure.

Bec barks when he sees Rose, his tail wagging behind him.

“Hello to you, too, dog,” Rose says to him, as though he’ll reply. She talks to her cats the same way; quick and snippy, with a dry humor behind the words.

“Do you plan on coming down anytime soon?” Rose asks. Bec whines and pokes his head through the hole kid Rose sat at in order to go down the slide. Of course the Harleys’ dog would be fine getting up, but coming back down? Well, now. That was an adventure not worth having.

Rose pulls herself up the wooden ladder to the dog’s level. Immediately, Bec shoves his snout in her crotch and pants happily.

“You stupid animal,” Rose mutters affectionately. She maneuvers the dog’s nose into a less uncomfortable place (which is basically anywhere else in the world) and pats his head reassuringly. “I’m sure we’ll be able to get you down from this big, bad place. What do you say to that?” 

Bec once again whines and licks her hand, sitting back on his haunches as Rose rubs the side of his face.

In the end, she drags him down the slide with him. Her shorts are messy with mud and Bec takes no time in heading right back to the slide. Luckily, Rose keeps her hand on his collar and stops him from moving.

“You’re just trouble, you know,” she scolds. “Let’s get you back to your owner.”

From the sound of it, someone is in the Harleys’ backyard, so all Rose really has to do is pull an old pot up to the fence and talk over it. She does this, keeping Bec by her the whole time.

And there’s Jade Harley, her legs covered in dirt and the rest of her… barely covered in anything else. Instead of clothes, Jade’s in an orange bikini, her hands working at the dirt with a shovel. Her gardening gloves are just as much of a mess as her legs, covered in dirt and green stains. Probably connected to the huge pile of weeds that are off to the side.

Compared to their yard, Jade’s is impressive. In the course of a week, Jade has managed to convert most of the backyard into garden box central. The only free space is the patio, which isn’t all that big in the first place. Rose has never been much of a gardener, but she can’t imagine that anything will start to grow that soon.

Rose tries to ignore how exposed Jade is (after all, it’s hot outside. And she doubts Jade wants to be ogled) and clears her throat loudly. Jade looks up from her hole and smiles at her neighbor, pulling earbuds out and tossing them across her shoulder so they don’t fall into the dirt..

“Hi, Rose!” she says. Her long, dark hair has been scraped back into a high ponytail which is just as messy as the rest of her. “What’s up?”

Rose leans over the fence with one arm, the other one fixed to Bec’s collar. “I think I have something of yours over here.”

Bec chooses that moment to bark, which couldn’t have been more perfect if Rose has planned it. Jade’s eyes go wide.

“Oh, shit!” she exclaims, jumping to her feet. “I’ll just.... I’ll come get him!”

“I’ll meet you out front,” Rose confirms. Jade is gone in an instant, and Rose jumps down from the pot. Why they have an unused pot that big, she has no idea.

Bec licks the salty sweat from her wrist and she scratches his ear before dragging him back through the house. His paws are mostly clean at that point.

Out front, Jade is still in her bikini and her dirt, an expression of annoyance on her face. “Come, Bec!” she commands, and the white dog trots over to his owner the second that Rose lets go of his collar. He licks his owner’s knee and is clearly blind to the death vibes she’s sending his way. Rose is just too busy being sexually frustrated to pay attention to the dog at this point.

“I’m honestly not sure how he got over the fence this time,” Jade tells her apologetically. “Last time it was a lumber pile that the old owners left over.”

“It’s not a problem,” Rose assures her. “Your pup got himself stuck on my childhood play structure though.”

“That sounds like him,” Jade admits. Rose smiles at that. “Thanks for getting him back to me. I’ll try to keep a closer eye on him from now on.”

Rose doubts that will help, but she agrees and lets Jade go back to her own house.

She’s right, of course, because the same thing happens one more time before they figure out that a loose section of fence is how the dog has been getting through. Jade goes out ten minutes after they find out and nails the section back into place.

Rose wonders momentarily if she’d be able to get away with sabotaging the fence.

 

* * *

Every day for the next two weeks, Jade takes to the yard, gardening her heart out. And every day, it’s in a swimsuit. Sometimes a bikini, sometimes a one piece, sometimes just shorts and a swimsuit top. Rose decides that a god somewhere must hate her.

Because Rose has no self-control and antisocial tendencies, she sets up her umbrella and blanket on top of the old play structure in the backyard. She isn’t sure if Jade ever notices her since she’s got earbuds in more often than not. While Jade doesn’t notice her, Rose definitely notices Jade  _ and _ the way her skin slowly starts to darken after each day in the sun. She works box by box, filling sections with transplanted plants or seeds. Rose has no idea whether or not she’s growing edible plants or flowers, but Jade is certainly putting a lot of work into it either way. She works quickly and for hours at a time, often starting from the early working and breaking at two or so in the afternoon for lunch. And she’s always in a stupid fucking swimsuit.

Rose can’t help but feel like a complete weirdo for hanging out within view of Jade, though it’s not like she spends the entire time watching the other girl. It’s not just the appeal of looking at a pretty girl; her mom is home so little that being around another person is nice. Even though “being around” is something of a stretch with Rose ten feet in the air on the other side of a fence. She uses this to justify how completely fine the situation is.

Maybe if Rose had experience dealing with people outside of her family, she’d be able to actually talk to the girl. This creeper act is not at all flattering.

It’s a Monday when Rose gathers up the courage to stand back up on that flowerpot and peer over the fence. Jade has her hands in the dirt, as per usual, weeding. Harley seems to have a schedule: weeding happens on Monday, and on Friday she trims the plants of dead leaves and twigs. Rose hasn’t picked up on anything else yet, though she’s sure Jade has a gardening plan taped to her wall with doodles of flowers on the corners. Jade seems like that kind of person.

Jade has earbuds in, her iPod tucked into the back strap of her bikini. Her ponytail molds with the straps, held against her sweaty back. Rose isn’t sure what makes the girl so attractive at this moment. Maybe if she knew, she’d be able to do more than lean her chin on her tucked arms and say something. The wood of the fence bites into her elbows as she stares, fixed in that moment, thinking.

And then she crashes down.

The flowerpot, as it turns out, was not the best step stool. It probably doesn’t help that, despite Rose’s light body, the pot is likely older than she is. 

Broken pottery lies around her like the remains of a well-fought, vicious battle. The only battle being fought in that backyard is one between Rose’s panic and her pride. She hopes that Jade didn’t hear that, and remains on the ground while she listens for the telltale sound of Jade scrabbling to the fence. Nothing but the soft hum of Jade’s loud music answers her silence. A sigh of relief is uttered before Rose realizes just how much she hurts.

She checks herself over, sitting there on the ground. Her ass hurts almost as much as her pride, but where the pain is really centered is the back of her leg, which Rose really does not want to look at considering the blood she can see on the ground. Not a lot, but she’s never been good with her own blood.

And when she lifts her leg up to see her calf and, yep, that’s a four inch piece of broken pottery embedded in her leg, she takes a deep breath before stiffly getting to her feet. 

Rose isn’t entirely sure how she gets to the fence and drags herself up, her elbows digging into the wood sharply as she hangs in free space, looking over at Jade, who is still in musicland. 

“Jade?” she begins. Then she clears her throat, draws a breath, and ignores the blood running down her leg. “Jade?”

 

* * *

It’s no surprise that Jade is both the worst and best person to have available in an emergency situation. Once she buckles down and stops turning green in the face at the sight of the blood, the two of them are in the car. Jade’s driving is significantly better than her mother’s, which would be more of a comfort if the world weren’t already spinning. Rose figures that’s the panic and not the blood loss. But somehow, with those magical Lalonde genes she’s got hidden under her skin, she manages to play it off coolly. 

With a dish towel wrapped carefully around the protruding piece of pottery, Rose manages to hobble into the ER, with Jade tittering like a concerned mother hen beside her. Honestly, the girl might as well offer to carry her. Bridal style, while she was at it.

...Well, she had at one point offered just that. Rose’s pride is the only reason she didn’t accept. Unfortunately.

Maybe while she’s here she’ll get her pride surgically removed. It would be worth the money.

The attendant who sits Rose down (well, actually, she’s lying down on her stomach, but the sentiment is roughly the same) applies a local anesthetic under Jade’s watchful and worrisome eye. It takes the shortest of moments to get stabbed in the leg by traitorous pots and an eternity for said pot to be removed from Rose’s leg. Another eternity goes by as Rose waits for her skin to be stitched back together, which is the weirdest sentence she’s ever thought up. The idea of skin being stitched back together like it’s common cloth settling on their bones instead organic material is unnerving. Woah, she’s never really thought about it but… It’s pretty weird that human beings sew themselves closed when they get hurt. She’s the weirdest looking dress she’s ever seen.

Jade is just as attentive on the way back to her car. Rose has been instructed to “be careful,” which shouldn’t be too hard. The extent of any future exertion will be clean the catbox in her house.

Jade helps her hobble into her house, and Rose tries not to focus on how she smells like earth and wind and grass. She’s still covered in dirt and her hair is a mess, but she insists on coming inside to get Rose situated.

“I can’t just leave you home alone without knowing you’ll be alright,” Jade says, and is off to the kitchen to retrieve painkillers and water once she has Rose settled onto the couch. Frigglish takes this opportunity to hop onto her stomach, snurgling with his paws until he’s finally satisfied and sinks into a quiet catnap.

Jade comes back with a blanket, some orange juice, and Ibuprofen. “I have a heating pad at my house,” she says. “If you want.”

“No, it’s fine.” For now. And as long as Jade doesn’t ask how it happened, everything will continue to be fine. 

“Well, okay,” Jade says. “Um, here. Let me give you my phone number. In case you need something before your mom gets home. You probably should walk around too much yet.” She takes out her phone and taps a few buttons, probably trying to find her number. 

After she puts the number in Rose’s phone, she’s gone. Rose is left with Frigglish, Netflix, and a gnawing ache in her stomach that she can’t explain.

 

* * *

She doesn’t call Jade.

 

* * *

It must be some sort of ironically horrible luck that makes some smiling, cruel god above give her mom a business trip for the next few days. Her mom stumbles in at eight that night, dead tired and surprisingly sober. She pokes Rose awake on the couch, where her daughter has fallen asleep in the middle of an episode. Frigglish yawns and jumps away, leaving a blanket of fur and the distinct smell of housecat behind.

“Hey, baby,” her mom says softly, kissing her on the head gently as she blinks her eyes open. “Sorry I’m so late.”

She smells like alcohol. Roxy always does. But she must not’ve been able to sneak any booze at work because her breath smells cleaner than Rose can ever remember it being.

“It’s fine,” Rose tells her, not bothering to sit up. She burrows deeper into the blanket, passive-aggressively covering most of her face. Mostly to avoid another goodnight kiss.

“Sorry to wake you, Rosie. But I wanted to see you before I have to leave,” her mom says. “I’ve got a trip in the morning. Leaving early.”

Her mom sounds so sleepy. Just listening to her makes Rose tired. Well, more tired.

“Okay,” she replies. “Goodnight.”

Roxy leans down to hug her sleepy child before disappearing into a dark house.

Rose is asleep again in minutes.

 

* * *

She wakes again at about nine in the morning. She doesn’t know this, but her mom left about three hours beforehand. Rose can vaguely recall the conversation from last night. She didn’t even mention her stitches to her mom.

Jade comes by at eleven for some reason. Well, Rose pretends not to know the reason - which is just that Jade’s just nice that way. She’s never met a person like Jade before; someone so fine with being inconvenienced for others. Or maybe Jade doesn’t see it that way. Who knows.

“I brought some pancakes. They should still be warm,” Jade says when she hobbles over to the front door to cease the ringing bell. It’s pretty obvious she brought pancakes considering she’s holding them. 

Rose moves to the side to let Jade in. Her long hair has been pulled back in a braid that goes halfway down her back and she’s wearing her typical jean shorts and tank top despite the chill of the summer morning. It should start to warm up soon. It’s a shame Jade didn’t see fit to wear her bathing suit top over, Rose thinks wryly.

“I didn’t know if you liked syrup or anything so I left them plain,” Jade tells her. “Do you want me to bring you anything or…”

“No, that’s unnecessary,” Rose replies. “I think I can manage a limp to the kitchen.”

It doesn’t hurt, but there’s a tightness in her leg when she walks. She took painkillers earlier and they should last for a few more hours.

Rose collapses into a kitchen stool as elegantly as one can collapse in a stool as soon as she’s gotten herself a fork and honey (they’ve probably been out of syrup for a while). Jade hovers like a concerned mother bird. 

God, she’s even more gorgeous up close. Rose has noticed, of course, but those painkillers have really messed with her head and as a result it’s all she can focus on.

“You don’t have to stick around, you know,” Rose tells her. She isn’t hungry, but she’s almost mechanically feeding herself. It’s something to do with her hands and her mouth besides imagining them on Jade.

(Holy shit, Rose. These painkillers really dampen your inhibitions, huh?)

“Oh! Do you want me to leave?” Jade asks. “I didn’t mean to just invite myself in like that.”

“No,” Rose replies, almost too quickly. Too desperately. “I invited you in, it’s fine. Thank you for bringing food over.”

Jade beams and Rose imagines the poetry Apollo would dedicate to someone with a smile like the sun.

“I feel like we haven’t really talked since I moved in,” Jade says. “I’d like to be friends. I mean, you seem really cool, so I wanted to extend my neighborly hand and maybe… Get to know you?”

The honesty is shocking. What, no manipulation? No passive-aggressive vying for her attention? 

“Normally you’d make friends with someone before you’ve become intimate with their curse words of choice in an emergency,” Rose responds coolly. Jade laughs.

“I’ve never met anyone who has your way with words,” Jade says. 

“You should meet my cousin,” Rose says before she can stop herself.  _ Yes, let’s bring up Dave Strider to the cute girl in our kitchen. Honestly, Rose. This is not how you get the girl _ .

Not that she was especially interested in getting the girl.

“If he’s anything like you,” Jade tells her, “I’m sure we’ll get along.”

Well, that’s awfully chummy of her to say considering they’ve had maybe three actual conversations.

“Where’s your dog?” Rose asks, hoping to change the subject. “Breaking into my yard again?”

Jade rolls her eyes, popping herself up on one of the kitchen stools across from Rose. “We’ve had discussions about that,” she says seriously. “He really does know better. Anyway, I don’t need to babysit him. Dogs are pretty self-sufficient.”

“Oh,” is the stupid response Rose delivers. “I’ve never had a dog.”

Jade smiles at her, leaning her elbows on the counter. She’s physically in the conversation now, closer to Rose than anyone’s gotten since summer started. “You seem like a cat person,” Jade says wisely.

“Guilty as charged.”

“I like cats. But Bec’s not the best with them.” Jade sighs, ever at the mercy of her terror hound. “He can be rough.”

_ Oh baby, so can I. _

Dave Strider’s voice needs to get out of her head.

“I can’t stay for very long - things to do, people to see,” Jade says with her toothy smile. “But I’ll give you my number and you can call me if you need anything, alright?”

Rose blinks in confusion as Jade pulls out her phone. It has a green case with little prints of flowers (of course) and a frog charm hanging off of it. 

That has to be the cutest thing she’s ever seen.

“I never remember the number,” Jade admits as she scrolls through a few screens. “Should I write it down somewhere?”

Rose reaches across the counter, her bum leg begging her not to, and grabs a pen. Probably one of the many pens that have disappeared from their drawers to be used with the intention of making a grocery list or jotting down a recipe. It’ll probably never make it back. Poor thing.

“Just write it on my arm,” Rose says. “I’ll put it into my phone later.”

Jade smiles at her and scrawls out a sequence of numbers in wild, loopy handwriting.

Okay,  _ that _ is probably the cutest thing she’s ever seen. Ever. In her whole life.

“Text me anytime!” Jade tells her, jumping off of her stool. “Or call. I don’t mind either way.”

“Whatever you say,” Rose responds. 

It’s when her front door closes from the other room that Rose realizes Jade has probably just become her friend.

She really doesn’t have a problem with that.

(And maybe someday she'll tell Jade that the other girl gave Rose her number  _twice_.)


End file.
